


words that i can't say

by pervanches



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Don't Like Don't Read, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Sibling Incest, Underage Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25211428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pervanches/pseuds/pervanches
Summary: Five times Osamu went first, and one time Atsumu beat him to the punch.(#miyacestweek day 1: firsts)
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Miya Osamu
Comments: 7
Kudos: 179





	words that i can't say

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bronigiri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronigiri/gifts).



> For the ever lovely @bronigiri on this Miya day.
> 
> I had hoped to do more with these but neither time nor my day job are on my side at the moment, and some things are better done than perfect.

[1]

For as long as he has been alive, Atsumu has been following Osamu. Osamu was seven minutes older (a fact he would never let Atsumu forget), and Atsumu had never known a world in which there was no Osamu to measure up to, no Osamu to beat. Sure, to the world out there they were _the Miya twins_ , but Atsumu knew that no matter what anyone else saw, the reality was that he was Osamu's brother, Osamu's twin, Osamu's shadow.

Seven minutes. For seven minutes, Osamu's life was relatively quiet. He cooed softly, the hospital machines beeped regularly, his mom whispered sweet reassurances about the world that he would eventually grow to understand. And then he was handed off to his dad to wait in the corner while Atsumu entered the world. And in that moment, eyes still closed, swaddled in a hospital sheet and cradled against his dad's chest, Osamu's world burst into noise.

[2]

"Osamu, why don't you try setting?" The words took a moment to settle in the stagnant air of the gymnasium before Atsumu actually _heard_ them over the ringing in his ears.

"EHHHH???" Atsumu shrieked, head whipping up first to look at their coach and then to look at his brother in disbelief. Osamu's face, ever placid without his brother's provocation, betrayed nothing. But Atsumu had not lived for eleven years by his side to not recognize that glint in his eye. _He was pleased with himself, the smug bastard._

Three weeks. For three weeks, Atsumu stayed extra hours at the gymnasium after practice, long after his teammates had packed it up, long after even Osamu had given up on him and walked home alone. Three weeks setting his fingertips raw, the _ka-thunk ka-thunk ka-thunk_ of the ball echoing in his head long after he had changed out of his practice clothes, until their coach had made him setter and he got to rub Osamu's stupid expressionless face in it and he had never looked back since.

[3]

Osamu's first kiss had been with a boy, and that boy was not Atsumu. It was the summer before senior high and the twins were invited to a birthday party for Mori-kun, a friend from one of their training camps. The day had been spent playing volleyball and eating barbecue, eventually retreating back to Mori-kun's house for watermelon and video games when the gaggle of boys had been sufficiently tired out. But later in the night, once showers had been taken and futons had been laid out and goodnights had been bid, the group of boys sat huddled in the center of Mori-kun's room playing truth or dare in the dim light of a desk lamp.

Two seconds. The kiss had lasted for two seconds, a chaste juvenile press of lips broken apart by embarrassed sputtering and the guffawing of their friends at making two of their own do something _gay_. Looking back, neither twin would remember the name of the boy that Osamu had been dared to kiss. But those two seconds haunted Atsumu for two years, years spent imagining what Osamu's chapped lips would feel like against his own, years spent jerking himself off in the bathroom, door locked, eyes glued to the mirror before him, imagining that the hand around his cock belonged to somebody who parted his bangs in the other direction.

[4]

Mere weeks into their second year at Inarizaki, the twins found themselves at some volleyball party ( _why was it always a volleyball party?_ ) late on a Friday night. The music was pounding and the drinks were flowing and someone was doing a strip tease on the kitchen table and despite all of the commotion, Atsumu was nowhere to be found which Osamu found suspicious. Perhaps his twin had overestimated his tolerance and was now paying the price to the porcelain gods. Osamu snorted at the thought. Photos of a drunk, puking Atsumu would make good blackmail. 

Poking around on the ground floor revealed only Ojiro making out with some girl Osamu had never seen before in the closet under the staircase, so Osamu headed to the second floor, narrowly dodging a first-year hurtling down the staircase with a green tinge to his face. Despite the chaos downstairs, the second floor was quiet. It seemed that the party's rambunctious guests were nonetheless respectful of their host's space. A muffled shout from down the hall drew Osamu's attention to the door at the far left, the only one with a sliver of light pooling out from behind it. Osamu moved towards it. He tried the handle, surprised to find it unlocked, and pushed the door open expecting to find, perhaps, his brother on his knees with his head in the toilet regretting his decisions from the past three hours (or past sixteen years).

He was not expecting to find this: his brother stood in front of the sink, blush high on his cheeks, right hand stuffed down his pants, mouth wrapped around two of his own fingers, and Osamu's name on his lips. Osamu's frozen immediately, but it takes half a minute for Atsumu to register his presence, drunk as he is on alcohol or pleasure, Osamu doesn't know. When Atsumu finally catches Osamu's eye in the mirror he freezes as well, eyes growing wide, hand stuttering to a stop, mouth gaping with two fingers still pressed to his tongue. In the moment he needs for his preoccupied brain to coerce his body to move, to say something, to exonerate himself, Osamu breathes in, a single gasp, and breathes out, " _'Tsumu,_ " and that's all it takes; before Atsumu even notices, he's coming in his pants with a groan, grip tightening around himself in disbelief.

Osamu is on him in an instant, always the first to act, crushing Atsumu against the bathroom counter and crushing their lips together and Atsumu doesn't know when they left the bathroom or left the party but they're stumbling down the street in the direction of their house, arms wrapped around shoulders, somehow supporting each other's weight yet unable to support their own, leaving giggles and heated whispers in the chill of the night air. They're crashing through the door of their house and the door of their room and onto Atsumu's bed and they're crashing, crashing, crashing, and all Atsumu can hear is the deep ringing timbre of his brother's voice and the the roaring white noise of waves in his ears.

One night. All they had was this one night together, and in the morning when Atsumu woke up, he was alone in his bed and Osamu was snoring soundly across the room in his, and Atsumu would have thought he dreamt it if not for the pounding in his head and the ache in his ass and the trail of bruises down his chest.

[5]

People always thought that Osamu would have a harder time adjusting to being alone. After all, Atsumu was the outgoing one, the loud one, the charmer. Atsumu was the one that girls flocked to throughout high school, the Inarizaki setter's name painted on their lips like an open secret. Atsumu would play volleyball, Atsumu would make new friends, Atsumu would move on.

But people didn't know any better. People didn't know that while he may have appeared more independent, Atsumu was actually far, far needier than his twin. Didn't know just how much Atsumu craved validation, hungered for it like the fourth meal of the day. People didn't know that Atsumu could flit about the way he did, could say and do the things he did, because he wouldn't care if the whole world turned their backs on him, as long as Osamu was there at the end of the day, in his bed across from Atsumu's own. People didn't know.

And after all, Osamu was the one who left.

Forty-two hours. When Osamu had announced that he was leaving volleyball, Atsumu didn't speak to him for forty-two whole hours. Seventeen years together and it was the longest stretch of silence between the two since they'd said their first words. It wasn't personal. Atsumu knew that, really, but as with everything else between them, he had taken it personally. Because while he may have known that Osamu was walking away from volleyball, it felt like Osamu was walking away from him. Because now there was no second bed in Atsumu's tiny Osaka flat, and Osamu had once again gone on ahead, leaving Atsumu staring at his back.

[+1]

Atsumu lies on his side and stares, once again, at his brother's back; watches as it rises and falls with even breaths; traces a calloused finger along a bicep, still strongly muscled despite Osamu's current diet of 90% white rice. Osamu murmurs something in dreamspeak and wriggles deeper into the covers, and Atsumu allows himself a secret sort of smile, throwing an arm around his twin and pulling him closer. For them it had always been together, it had always been forever. A simple truth, regardless of however long it had taken them to circle and circle and come back to each other. _Inevitable_ , he thinks. _The way the world turns_. He thinks of the ring in his bedside table; he thinks of how in the morning, on the 11th of July, he is going to give it to Osamu; he thinks of how he knows Osamu will take it though they both know it will never see the world outside of their apartment. And he thinks, once more, of the words that they had always understood and had never said, and would never need to.


End file.
